We're Not Gonna Fall
by Wynter Spite
Summary: Dean just got out of Purgatory and he can't find Benny's bones. Mostly because the portal dropped him off just outside of the motel he found Sam at when he got out of Hell. Five years ago. Or rather, now. Except he doesn't know that until he gets a room right next to his brother and knocks on the door. Now how will he get back to his time while fooling Sam into believing he's fine?
1. Chapter 1

**So . . . I'm gonna need to ask some questions concerning Benny. Specifically, one question.**

**What's his accent? Seriously, it's beautiful. My gosh, if I could bottle that voice . . . **

**. . . Well, I'd keep it in a titanium safe with bodyguards and hit men in the rafters for anyone who tried to touch it. An o****verreaction? I think not.**

**But seriously. I need the answer to the question, dudes. What's his accent?**

**Warnings: Rated for Dean's (admittedly magnificent) mouth. And thoughts.**

**Disclaimer: I own them, ****I own them all! Heh, heh, heh . . . _sob_ . . . Okay, okay, I own nothing except Benny . . . what? Oh, _fine. _I own absolutely_ nothing. _There, are you happy now? I hope you're satisfied. I'll get you for this, I swear . . . ****_sob, sob . . ._**

**And . . . go.**

* * *

><p><em>It's a world full of heartbreak drive bys<em>

_They've seen their fair share of hard lives_

_Looked right into the face of a goodbye_

_While we walked on the edge of the dark side_

* * *

><p>Dean stood over the empty hole where Benny's bones should be buried, where his grave should be. Nothing was there.<p>

His arm burned coldly, as if it had been frozen over and left that way for too long. He glanced down at it. "What the hell, Benny? Did you give me the wrong directions or something?"

No one answered. Which was expected, considering the only part left of Benny was the part currently residing in his left arm.

He cursed beneath his breath and began to walk. The burn was getting worse. He brushed passed the tree branches in his way, gritting his teeth as the searing ice that had taken over his arm throbbed.

Once he got out of the clearing, however, something seemed to stretch and pull, trying to cling to his skin. The feeling faded, but not before whatever it was snapped, sending a shockwave down his body and making a sharp sensation seem to resound in his head as a shudder traveled down his spine, and created a feeling not unlike needles in his fingertips.

He shook his head to clear it, muttering, "What the . . . ?"

He stood deadly still for a moment, Purgatory knife in his hand.

When nothing seemed to happen, he slowly began to walk again, muscles tenser than before the air tried to dig into him.

He strode out of the brush, only to find himself in the parking lot of a motel. A motel he recognized. It was the one he'd found Sam in when he'd come from Hell. The Astoria.

He was in Pontiac, Illinois. Shit. No wonder he couldn't find Benny's bones.

He shook his head, thought about it, and decided that Sam would appreciate it more if he took a shower before just suddenly showing up at his doorstep.

Hell, so would Dean.

He'd somehow managed to keep his wallet in the pocket of his jacket, and used nearly all that was left in it to pay for the room. The teenage employee didn't even bother to look up from his magazine as he gave Dean the key.

Seconds into the shower, and he came to the conclusion that he'd forgotten how good it felt not to have blood on you.

Forty minutes later (Purgatory was not kind, and he figured he probably deserved a few extra minutes under the warm spray of clean-impossibly clean-water), he stepped out and considered the only clothes he had.

They had been matted with dirt and blood (not all of that was red, either) and other things (what was that anyway, acid?), but since he'd brought them into the shower with him, they were soaked through. Significantly cleaner than before, but still soaked through.

His left arm trembled. He would have already let the earth absorb Benny's blood, but he just . . . couldn't do it. He owed him, and he always tried to pay his debts.

He raised his right hand and let it settle against his left shoulder, trying to still the constant tremor. It felt like his arm was both on fire and completely frozen at the same time.

This could pose a problem.

Suddenly, a shudder caught him by surprise, and his breath hissed out as the burning increased. It was like he was being branded. He looked down at his arm, and forgot to breathe.

Mostly because he _was _being branded.

A strange tattoo was being burned into his skin, an odd, shimmering red. He couldn't look away as it seared and froze him, sinking into his flesh, and abruptly, the pain ended.

He looked down at it, an odd expression he couldn't see on his face. "Benny?"

No one answered.

He stood there for several moments, just looking down at the tattoo in his arm.

He would bet anything it couldn't be removed by anything less than a knife to the skin, and only then if he let it bleed out of him.

There was no worrying over something he couldn't change, though.

He was just putting on his (wet, clinging) pants when a sound caught his attention. It was coming from the next room over, sounded like laughter.

It was wearing away at his nerves. Laughter wasn't something he heard often in Purgatory, and even then, it was harsh and maniacal and rang in his ears like someone dragging their nails down new glass.

He buckled his belt, straightened up and grabbed his (dripping, cold) shirt, putting it on before leaving the room. He went to the room beside his and knocked on the door. A woman with long dark-brown hair answered the door, wearing only a shirt that reached passed her hips.

Immediately, a charming smile came to his lips.

It felt new, and strange, and he wanted it off as soon as possible.

(Why? It's not as if he hadn't smiled in Purgatory, even-oh God, especially-when there was this one moment where a Leviathan caught up to them and he was on the monster in less than two seconds and he had the black knife that went with the black blood staining his skin and the Leviathan and for some twisted reason it was so, so hard not to just fall back into Alistair's torture, his training-)

"Excuse me. I don't mean to bother you, but could you keep it down? I just got back from a long trip, and I'm still trying to get used to it."

A smile flirted with the woman's lips, despite the fact that the room she stood in clearly wasn't one she'd paid for herself and whoever _had_ paid for it was still there.

(Did this seem familiar? It was familiar, why was it happening again? He knew this, remembered-)

"Who is it?" a familiar voice asked.

Dean watched, overcome by déjà vu and a sickening sense of the familiar.

His brother stood there, tall and straight and oh, God, this was him before the Cage. This was Sam before Lucifer got out, before betrayal and everything else tore them apart. Before the hallucinations, before Bobby died, before Cas sided with Crowley, before they broke each other and themselves.

_Sam._

He didn't realize he'd said the name aloud until Sam had him pressed against the wall with a knife to his throat and his brother's name ringing in his ears.

_Why?_

Why was he here?

Sam?

"Sam, you stand so tall." The whisper escaped his lips, unable to be held inside.

Sam-this Sam, unburned by Hell, unmarked by the angels and their unending war-looked back at him, familiar hazel eyes hard as they stared into his.

God. Oh God, his brother was strong, so, so strong. His brother. Sam.

(Fuck.)

"Sammy, we keep coming back. Why do we keep coming back?" The words were said in such a low, deep voice, he wouldn't have heard them-wouldn't have even recognized them-had they not come from his own mouth.

Sam heard them.

"You heard me," Dean said. Just to say something to his brother. "Can't believe you heard me."

Sam tightened his hold on him.

"Missed you," Dean said, the words tumbling out. "Wasn't the same without you. Blood and monsters are all well and good, but my little brother wasn't there to fight them with me."

Sam parted his lips, then didn't seem to know what he wanted to say.

"S'alright," Dean said, tone almost comforting but for the rasp to his voice. "Not like I expected a warm welcome or anything. You die too many times, and you stop wanting one, anyway." He chuckled. It sounded rougher than usual, but then again, Purgatory could do that to you.

Purgatory had done that to him.

God.

"Got pie?" he asked. "I'd kill for some pie. Seriously, Sam. Do you know how long it's been since I last ate anything that's actually supposed to be edible?"

"Dean?"

There it was.

'Dean.' There it was.

"Hey, Sammy," he whispered, squeezing his brother's wrist. "I'm home."

* * *

><p>After the brunette left<p>

("Bye, Kathy."

"It's C-"

"Yeah."),

Dean found himself sitting in a chair across from Sam, a beer in his hand (wouldn't have lasted a week in Purgatory with alcohol on his breath, in his blood) and Sammy gazing at him like he'd just solved Einstein's greatest math problem in record time.

Geek.

Sam asked after his health, both mental and physical, several times ("Are you sure you're alright, Dean?").

It was getting irritating.

(He loved it.)

"Dean, are you-"

"I said I'm fine," he interrupted.

Sam's expression was breathtaking in its total disbelief. "Fine? You've been in Hell, Dean."

He frowned. "Been there, done that. Didn't even get a T-shirt for my troubles."

From the look on Sam's face, you'd think he just told him the empire state building was theirs for the taking.

"Dean," Sam said slowly, "you just got out of _Hell_. How can you just be alright?"

Dean slapped his hands down on his legs. "Fact is, Sammy, that's old news."

"How, _how_ _on earth _can that be old news?" his brother demanded. "It was four months ago! You were . . . Dean, you had to have been tortured."

"I was," Dean said bluntly.

That didn't seem to make Sam feel any better. In fact, it made him go a paler shade than he already was.

Damn. Maybe he should have phrased it differently.

"It's fine, Sammy."

"Nothing's fine, Dean. It can't all just_ be fine_." He paused. "How did you get out of Hell, anyway?"

"An angel named Castiel 'gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition'," he said, deadpan.

"An angel?"

"An angel."

"They're real?" He looked like a huge, excited puppy.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, real douchebags."

"Dean," his brother said disapprovingly.

"What?"

Sam looked at him disappointedly, hazel eyes big and sad.

Dean gave up. "Look, I'm not saying _all_ angels are douchebags . . ."

Sam made a face and sighed.

Dean gave him a grin.

He had the feeling it looked way more happy than he wanted to let on.

Too long since Sam had sighed at him.

A year was too long. A _week_ was too long.

It was too long no matter how you said it.

"-ean. Dean."

He blinked, looking up. "What?"

Sam gave him an exasperated look. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"Nope," Dean replied, completely unrepentant.

"Look, Dean, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Sammy. Quit worrying about it."

"I wasn't the one in Hell, Dean," Sam retorted.

Dean froze.

The thought, _'God, no, I won't let you be' _ran through his mind.

Sam would never, ever be able to say otherwise.

He wouldn't allow it. Couldn't let it happen.

Not to his brother. _Not_ to his brother.

"Dean."

He met his Sam's concerned gaze.

This was a chance to make things right.

"You're okay?" Sam asked, reaching out to lay his hand on Dean's shoulder in a gesture of worry and support.

Dean smiled, letting his own hand come up to rest around Sam's wrist. "I'm fine, Sammy."

Hell had no chance.

* * *

><p><em>The gate was right there, the Leviathans behind them.<em>

_It was_ right there,_ glowing a shimmering blue as they climbed the rocks, waiting for them. For him?_

_It wasn't enough. Not enough strength, not enough time. Just . . . not enough._

_And then the Leviathans were ripping Benny apart and they were there, he and Cas, and he was standing in the blue and reaching out to the Angel who had snatched him from Hell, but Cas was letting go and slipping from his grasp and this shouldn't happen because they were both getting out, they were all supposed to get out, he and Benny and Cas and oh, God, no, Cas was going to be there alone, he'd have to fight by himself, he'd have to hurt and kill and break all on his own. Oh, God, it hadn't been enough._

_It hadn't been enough._

"Wake up now, Dean."

_Why hadn't he been strong enough? He could have . . . he could have pulled him out._

_Pulled him out like Cas pulled him up._

"You have to wake up."

_Why had he let Cas go? It wasn't . . . God, it wasn't supposed have happened like that._

"Dean."

_It shouldn't have gone that way._

"I need you to wake up now, brother."

_Sam was worth getting out._

"Dean."

_But Cas was worth staying in._

"Wake up."

Dean woke up.

He opened his eyes to darkness.

"Dean."

The utterance brought him up faster than he'd thought possible, his head jerking around to stare at the man standing beside his bed.

Benny smiled in that way he had, as if it was a reflection of his voice, a slow, thick-as-honey drawl. "Good to see you finally listenin' to me, brother. Now if only you could learn to keep doin' it." He nodded toward Sam. "That your brother, Dean? The one you told me about? Sam, was it?"

"Yeah, but I . . . I didn't bleed on your bones," Dean said, stunned to see the vampire alive and well in front of him. He lowered his voice when Sam mumbled in his sleep and turned over in the bed next to his.

"Figured you hadn't. Just don't know why not."

"Your bones weren't there, Benny."

The corners of Benny's lips turned down. "They shoulda been in that grave. And I'd know."

Dean shook his head. "There wasn't a grave. We're in the wrong place. Take it from me, your bones are somewhere else." He paused. "How are you here, anyway? No one . . . ah . . ."

Benny waited a moment before saying, "What, Dean?"

"Gripped you tight and raised you from Purgatory," he said before he could stop himself.

Now Benny looked amused. "What makes you think that?"

"Nothing," he dismissed, embarrassed. "Stupid thought."

"It musta been some thought."

"Yeah, maybe." He paused. "Wait, you're not a hallucination are you? Dammit, Sam's had enough of those for both of us."

Benny chuckled. "I'm not a hallucination, Dean."

"Then how're you here?"

Benny nodded toward him. "I have a feelin' it has somethin' to do with that."

He looked down at the red tattoo on his arm. "Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. What, uh, what's it like, being . . . well . . . this?"

Benny tilted his head. "Well, it's a lot like Purgatory, 'cept without the big old monsters tryin' to take you out of the food chain. Don't have the hunger, so that's one less thing I have to worry about."

Dean nodded. "Well, that's good."

"Yeah." Benny paused. "Hey, what happened to your little angel buddy? I thought he was gettin' out with you . . ." He stopped talking at the look of pain on Dean's face. "Forget I said anythin', it's none a' my business, anyway."

"No, it's fine," Dean murmured, lowering his gaze to the bed as his hands clenched in the blanket. "He . . . he didn't make it. The gate closed before he . . . before I could . . ."

"Hey, you doan need to tell me that." Benny moved on before Dean could say another word. "Where are we? I can't remember nothin' before those Leviathan tossed me over with all those intense anger management issues of theirs."

"We're at a motel." He paused, then decided to just say it. "Five years in the past."

This was news to Benny. He turned to Dean with all of his attention. "Now how the hell does that happen?"

"You'd be surprised," Dean said dryly. "I was once sent five years into the future, and trust me, it wasn't pretty."

"You got yourself some interestin' stories to tell, don't you?" Benny remarked.

Dean snorted. "Oh, you have no idea."

Benny smiled. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he asked, "What should I do while you're sleepin'? I doan think I sleep, Dean, an' I get as bored as the next vampire."

Dean nodded. "You can read whatever Sam's got out." He hesitated. "D'you think Sam will be able to see you?"

"Guess we'll have to find out."

Yeah. Great. If it went well and Sam could see Benny, he would think that Dean was insane for befriending a vampire instead of killing it.

If it went badly and Sam couldn't see Benny but at some point saw Dean talking to someone that wasn't there, Sam would still think that Dean was insane. Only a lot less _Are-you-kidding-me? _insane and more _Oh-God-what's-the-number-for-the-local-asylum_ insane.

He watched Benny pick up a book that was on the table.

God, he was going to be stress-eating like crazy no matter what happened, wasn't he? Might as well start the moment he woke up.

He turned on his side, only to stare at the back of Sam's furry head.

The kid seriously needed a haircut, bad.

He contemplated how he was going to go about convincing his brother of that. The last thought he had before falling asleep was, "Better get the Tasers before I try anything."

(But he already knew he wasn't going to do it.)

* * *

><p><em>After all this time <em>

_Yeah_

_We're not gonna fall now_

_We're not gonna bleed out_

_Never gonna break down_

_No, oh . . ._


	2. Chapter 2: Roses and Vines

**Well, it's taken awhile but here it is. The second chapter, all clean and shiny. **

**For those of you who are reading not only this but also my other fic, Swimming in the Smoke, I might have to discontinue it. I know, I know, but I just can't think of anything. It's like the story's deliberately keeping me out of the loop or something. **

**So Swimming in the Smoke is put on hiatus. (Which may or may not last forever.)**

**Ow. I can feel the glares and bloodlust all the way over here. Ow! Jeez, I'm sorry . . .**

**You can't have my immortal soul. Here, have a chapter instead.**

* * *

><p>Dean opened his eyes.<p>

He studied the empty bed beside his with a bleary gaze.

"Been waiting for you to wake up, brother. A good book can't last forever."

Dean pushed himself up from his stomach and looked at Benny, who was sitting in the chair by the table. "How long?"

Benny shrugged. "Since you last woke up? I'd say three hours."

He got unsteadily to his feet. "What time is it?"

"Eight thirty."

Dean groaned and rubbed a hand down his face. "Anything happen while I was out?"

"Nothing. Well." Benny paused. "Your brother woke up an hour an' a half before you did. Saw you sleepin' over here like a log, and the look on his face, you'd think he'd expected you to be gone."

"Or never been there," Dean muttered.

"Yeah. You shoulda seen his expression when it registered. He looked so damn relieved, I nearly left to room to give him some privacy."

"But you didn't?"

"Nah." A brief smile crossed Benny's face. "Couldn't look away. It was like watchin' an old movie, 'cept a lot more . . . emotional. I tell you, Dean, you got yourself some devoted brother here." He looked at Dean evenly. "What I wanna know is why he looks like death warmed over."

"I've seen him looking like death warmed over," Dean interrupted before Benny could say more. "I've seen him looking like Death didn't even bother with the warming. Trust me, this doesn't even cut it."

"I'm listenin'."

Dean pointed at the door. "For him? It's been four months without me, Benny. You know why? Because we both seem to have the bad habit of dying all the time."

"He thought you were dead?"

"Yeah." Dean gave a faint smile that was not amused. "Mostly because I was."

Benny shook his head. "You gotta do somethin' different, brother. Whatever you _are_ doin' just ain't workin' for you."

Dean snorted. "You're telling me."

"But why the guilt, Dean? It's like he thinks your death's all his fault."

"Sam, you'll never learn, will you?" Dean muttered, exasperated, but his voice was gentle. "If it was possible, he'd think global warming was all his fault. Idiot." He exhaled slowly. "Well, you'll have to find out sometime."

Benny looked at him, genuinely patient.

"He thinks I was in Hell."

"Knowin' you, that's not just an expression," Benny murmured. "If you were in Hell, how'd you get out?"

"An angel 'gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition,'" Dean quoted.

"Your Angel," Benny realized.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Not _my_ angel. Jeez, everyone seems to think something's going on with us. It's just Cas, man."

"He gonna show up soon?"

"Yeah. The worst part of this is that, at one point or another, some demon or whatever will eventually let slip how different time is in Hell than it is here."

Benny paused. "This ain't gonna be good, is it?"

"No. Basically, four months here is forty years down there." His lips turned down in an expression of annoyance and, though he didn't know it, worry. "Then Sam will be wondering why I didn't tell him, drowning in guilt and wanting Lilith's head on any platter he can get his hands on."

"And you're still not gonna tell him," Benny said. It wasn't a question.

"Hell, no. Even if I do tell him instead of avoiding it, he'll still react the same way. No, I'll figure something else out." He looked at the vampire steadily. "You with me on this?"

Benny tilted his head slightly. "Well, now how can I abandon a brother when he needs my help?"

Dean's lips quirked. "That, and I'm the only one who can see you."

Benny smiled. "You know me, Dean. I go along with whatever comes my way."

"And this is way too interesting to ignore."

The vampire laughed. "See? You do know me. Too well for my own good, I'm thinkin'."

They were interrupted when the door opened, and Sam walked in.

Dean tensed, waiting for him to notice Benny, but he didn't even glance at the vampire sitting in his chair.

Sam couldn't see him.

Relief made his shoulders relax, and he caught the take-out bag Sam tossed to him. "Please tell me you got pie."

His brother rolled his eyes, but he smiled. "I got pie."

Benny watched Sam sit down on his bed and open a newspaper. "Just outta Purgatory and you already got yourself a henchman. Why am I not surprised."

Dean suppressed the laugh that wanted to escape, instead choosing to ask, "You find anything, Sam?"

Sam scanned the words on the page. "Yeah. Apparently, a toothbrush holder attacked a man in his own home. Or, at least, that's what his wife says. She saw it beat her husband to death. By the time the police got there, he was already gone."

Dean paused. "You thinkin' vengeful spirit?"

Sam met his gaze. "Could be."

"Let's do it, then." He opened the take-out bag. "After I eat."

Sam turned back to his newspaper, mumbling under his breath, "Toothbrush holder. Really? I tell him someone was beaten to death with a toothbrush holder, and he wants to eat."

Benny laughed.

* * *

><p>It only took that one hunt for everything to go to hell.<p>

As it turned out, it wasn't a vengeful spirit.

It was a witch.

Dean wouldn't have anything against witches if they just stopped killing people. Unfortunately, they never took the suggestion under advisement.

"You'll never be able to stop me, Hunters," the witch, Karen Rever, hissed at them.

"Just tell me one thing," Dean said. "Why a toothbrush holder?"

Sam groaned. "Not now, Dean."

"It's not a hard question to answer," he argued.

Karen laughed, Dean swore later that it was an honest-to-God cackle. "Why? Because he was obsessed with having perfect teeth. Perfect teeth, perfect hair, perfect everything. Look what he has now. Perfect nothing."

"Jesus," Dean muttered. "I've seen saner asylum inmates than you."

"You'll have to tell me the story sometime," Benny said.

The witch stepped forward, smiling pleasantly. "Shall we see how much you like having another person living with your own memories? Shall I take them from you, take a little look inside your head? Mm, yes. That should be fun." Then she spoke in a low tone, her voice soft but deep. Dean couldn't make out the words, or if they even were words.

She paused, smiled. "Daddy wasn't around long, was he? Poor, poor things. Oh, and I see your little brother was just adorable. Took care of him like he was your reason for living, you did. You good little soldier, you. Aww, but you never wanted this life for him, did you? You sweet thing. All you really wanted was for your brother to be happy. But that didn't go so well for you, now did it? Daddy never did love you as much as he did Sam. Mm. Now there not-so-little Sammy just went and broke your heart, didn't he? Broke it into several pieces. He just went and took off. Left you all alone with that reckless Daddy of yours. Seems like Stanford did him well. Oh, just look how relieved you were to see Sam's face, even if it took your father's disappearance to go after him. How high you felt upon seeing him. I think I feel a tear in my eye. You two did get arrested a lot after that, didn't you? Aw. How sad. Whoops. There goes dear old Dad. Oh! You just learned your brother was even more of a freak than you realized. Oh, but wait. He wasn't a freak to you, was he? How sweet. Oh look. He's dead. Just numbed you out, didn't it. Couldn't even breathe until you saw him awake and alive. But look, now it's nearly your turn. You should see him from where I'm standing, Dean. He looks absolutely ruined. Such despair on your brother's face. I could almost cry. He's not making it much better, is he? You were so scared, and he doesn't even know. And . . . you're dead." She flinched. "Wasn't expecting that. The years do . . . pass . . ." Her hand reached up to clutch her head. "What . . . ? Why isn't it ending? _It's not ending_." Suddenly, she cried out. "Stop!" She staggered back. "No, this isn't right! Oh . . . Sam," she breathed. "Protect your brother, Dean. He's everything. To . . . you . . . Cas? _Sam_. Protect your . . . Sam? Don't die. Sam? Don't . . . right. Fake a smile. It's not right. Sam . . ." She let out a sob. "Sam. No. I won't . . . catch you . . . don't fall. You'll fall. So empty . . ." She took in a ragged breath. "Yes. Tell me? Please. No, you're not right. Not my Sam. My . . . Sam. Brother. Not right. Come back? Please. Sammy, don't break. Why?" she cried. "Why? Traitor . . . why? Oh . . . Sam," she sobbed. "Sam."

"I don't think that's supposed to happen, Dean," Benny finally said.

"No." Dean hesitated, then walked to stand in front of the witch. "Hey."

She looked up at him through watery eyes. "Sammy?"

"Karen, listen to me," he said. She seemed to focus on the sound of his voice. "You listening? Good." He didn't wait for her to answer. "Look, you're fine. See? You're not me, okay? Breathe. I said breathe, Karen. You're not breathing. Yeah, just keep doing that. Now listen. Do you know who you are?"

She hesitated. "Dean?" Her voice wavered.

"No. You're Karen Rever. Remember? You're a witch who was just about to kill us before you decided to go through my memories."

She blinked up at him, confused. "Oh. Why?"

"Because . . . you're a witch? Witches generally don't care about other people."

"People," she said slowly. She moved her gaze to over his shoulder and leaned sideways, trying to see around him. "Sammy?"

Sam walked over to them, his expression uncertain. "Yeah."

She giggled. It was a light, as if it had come from a child. She held out her arms. "Sammy."

Sammy glanced at him. "What did you do to her?"

"Me? She's the one who tried to take my memories."

"Sammy," she repeated patiently, her arms still held in front of her.

Dean nudged him. "Dude, I think she wants you to pick her up.

Sam paused, obviously uncertain whether he should, then bent down and lifted her into his arms.

She put her arms around him neck and rested her head on his shoulder. "Sammy." She sounded absolutely blissful.

"What should we do with her?" Sam asked.

"Hell if I know." He glanced at Benny, who shrugged.

"We could take her to Bobby," Sam suggested. His eyes widened, and he muttered a curse. Karen patted his hair, as if trying to comfort him. "I forgot to call and tell him that you're alive."

Dean whistled. "He is going to kill you."

"Help me out here, Dean."

He paused, as if thinking about it. "Nah. I think I'll hold you down for him, though."

"Great. Some brother you are."

Dean chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder, careful not to dislodge Karen. "You'll thank me later," he said cheerfully.

"No, Dean. I definitely will not be thanking you later."

He was right.

* * *

><p>It took less time than he'd expected to arrive at Bobby's house. By silent mutual agreement, neither of them talked about what had happened. Dean knew that Sam would give himself a heart attack not asking, but now wasn't the time. He'd had Sam call Bobby while he drove. From what he'd heard on Sam's end, and knowing Bobby as he did, the conversation had gone something like this:<p>

"Bobby?"

"Sam? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Bobby. It's me. Listen, we're nearly at your house, and-"

"We? What do you mean 'we'? Boy, you better not have-"

"Bobby. Bobby! Listen, we're almost there, okay? I'll explain everything, so just wait a minute."

"I was listening months ago, Sam. I was listening when you didn't call, and when I tried to and all I got was your damned voice message."

"Bobby . . . I'm sorry."

There was a pause.

"I know you are. Now what's this 'we' you were talkin' about?"

"Well . . . look, you'll see when we get there, alright?"

"Sam," Bobby said slowly, "what did you do?"

Dean stopped listening by then, knowing Sam would get an earful of expletives.

A while later, they stood on Bobby's porch, Karen by Sam's side, having clung to his hand through the whole drive and still doing so.

Bobby pulled the door open, took one look at Dean's face, and threw holy water right at it.

Dean blinked the water out of his eyes, squinting at Bobby. "Gee, thanks, Bobby. Hello to you, too."

"Bobby," Karen said, a wide smile on her face. She held out her free hand, looking up at him expectantly.

Bobby looked at her as if she were insane. Which she was, but he didn't know that.

"It's okay, Bobby," Sam told him. "Dean's not a demon or a shapeshifter."

Benny snorted. "A stubborn son of a bitch, yeah. But a demon? Nah."

Dean gave him a discreet glare that no one else saw. Benny shrugged. "Only tellin' it like I see it, brother."

Bobby glanced at Dean warily, then held open the door.

And that was how they found themselves sitting on a couch in front of Bobby, who finally asked the question Dean had been waiting for.

"Who's she?"

"A vegetable," Dean answered. He nudged Karen. "Right, Kare?"

She beamed at him. "Dean."

He nodded. "See? She's a vegetable."

"What did you do to her?"

"Jeez," he muttered. "First Sam, now you. It's not always my fault, you know."

Benny, who was sitting in a chair beside the couch, chuckled. "From what I've seen, it's never anyone else's, Dean."

He made a vow to get back at the vampire later. And then some.

Karen leaned against Sam and watched Bobby.

"This is Karen Rever, Bobby," Sam explained. "She's a witch." He paused. "Well, she was, until she tried to take Dean's memories." He glanced at his brother. "And you still haven't told me why this happened."

"The spell probably backfired," Dean lied smoothly.

Bobby's expression wasn't amused. "Yeah, right."

Dean frowned. "How should I know? It's not like I did it on purpose." That, at least, was true.

"And now you want to leave her here with me." It wasn't a question.

"We thought you could use the company," Dean murmured, completely unrepentant.

Bobby looked at Karen.

She had taken to petting the fabric of Sam's jeans, watching the movements of her fingers with rap attention. Then she stilled her hand and lifted her head to look at Bobby with an unusually solemn expression on her face. "Bobby."

It was like they were all holding their breath.

"Yeah?"

Karen seemed to study him. "I'm Karie."

"Karie," he said cautiously.

She giggled, and the spell was broken. "Bobby," she said happily. She looked at Dean, and her smile became for him. "Right?"

"Right," he agreed.

She laughed, a floating, tinkling sound, and reached out to pat his hand. "Flasks don't melt."

He nearly froze.

She must have gotten all of his memories, not just the ones up to the point where Sam fell with Michael and Lucifer into the Cage. Then he managed to get passed it, and said, "No, they don't."

She nodded soberly, and laid her head back on Sam's shoulder. Her somber gaze went to Bobby, lightened. She gave him a small wave. "Love your boys."

And, at that moment, Dean knew that Bobby was lost. There was absolutely no way he'd let Karen go now.

Bobby rested his gaze on him. "You were in Hell, boy. How did you get out?"

"Angels," he said, deadpan.

Which, of course, meant he had to explain it all over again. He still avoided mentioning how he knew Cas's name, which meant Bobby was giving him a suspicious look and thinking way too hard about it.

Really, it was like Bobby didn't trust him.

"You boys got somewhere you need to be?" the man asked.

After that, it took hours before they finally left.

Dean decided that, once they did, they were going to summon Cas.

A while later, they even had the stuff to do it.

"Bye, Sam," Karen said happily before they'd even gotten to the door. "Bye, Dean." And then Dean was one step outside, and she was calling to them cheerfully, "Bye, Benny."

They were in the car before Benny finally spoke.

"Now, how'd she know that?" he murmured.

Dean tried to think about what it would be like from Karen's point of view.

Then he realized it was impossible, and conceded to a mutual agreement with himself that he'd never attempt it ever again.

(Ever.)


End file.
